


like the lily

by himemiya



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: Briefly mentioned incest, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 13:51:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2470529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himemiya/pseuds/himemiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An almost-witch and an almost-prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like the lily

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stranger/gifts).



> I'm so happy I got this fandom! Utena is a series I adore, and this is a pairing I had always wanted to write for. I hope that you enjoy this fic!

**i.**

All you know of Juri before you see her duel is what your brother has told you and what she looks like: she’s in 11th grade, she desires the power of miracles, and of all the current duelists, she’s the closest to being a prince.You saw her once when she came to shake hands with the Chairman, the newest member of Ohtori Academy’s shining jewel, the Student Council. You’ve never seen her fight.

She beats Miki as effortlessly as you pull your skirt off in Touga’s bedroom. She seems to be too busy looking at the castle in the sky after her victory, so you politely wait in her dorm room, whose number your brother gave you.

As she heads up after classes, you emerge from the shadows. As you’ve said thousands of times before, you do now: “I am the Rose Bride, and from today on, I am your engaged.”

She doesn’t look nearly as happy as the others who have borne that distinction.

  **ii.**

You’re in the backseat of your brother’s car, and your hand is down the front of Juri’s pants.

“Where did you even get a car?” she asks, shifting to pull her underwear down her thighs.

You smile. “It’s a privilege of being the chairman’s sister, Juri-sama.”

She sighs. “Just hurry up.” She leans forward to see the timepiece your brother keeps in the front of his car.

“We have a student council meeting in ten minutes,” you supply helpfully, sinking down onto your knees

Touga like to come here at the same time, you think. But he was less concerned about the reactions of the rest of the council when the two of them came in late, clothes tousled. In fact, he preferred when you took your time.

As a courtesy, you say nothing when she gasps “Shiori!” instead of your name. Couples keep secrets from each other, you know. It’s only natural.

**iii.**

(You have no secrets from your brother.)

That night, when he’s sprawled languidly on the couch, he asks “And how are you and your fiancée, Anthy?”

“Wonderful, big brother” you say.

“Ah,” he says, with a small smile, looking down at you on the floor. “Should I worry that I’m being replaced?”

You smile back. “Never.”

**iv.**

 

Once, Juri walks in on the two of you. She isn’t the first, but she is the first to stare at you, mouth hanging open, as if you’ve done something wrong.

“Ah, Arisugawa-san,” your brother says, as if she hasn’t caught him having sex with his younger sister (who is, for all Juri knows, in middle school). “Why don’t you stay for dinner?”

“Himemiya-san-” she begins, falters, and starts anew. “Himemiya-san, what-”

You run up to her, stark naked, and kiss her. She’ll forget by morning (mostly).

**v.**

Juri’s voice is muffled by the pillow pressed against your ear, so you turn your face, blinking as she comes into focus, with your uniform crumpled by her feet. She’s already dressed, and she’s glaring at you.

“Yes, Juri-sama?” you say, reaching out your hand.

Her hand is crumpled around her locket, brow furrowed. “I despise you,” she hisses, turning around.

“Yes,” you say again, but she’s already gone.

**vi.**

 

“Good morning, Juri-sama!” you cry, running up to her with a picnic basket in your arms. It’s full of the shaved ice you made the night before.

“What do you want?” she asks. “Excuse me,” she murmurs, detaching herself from a gaggle of first years. “It seems that she has business with me.” One girl’s gaze follows you as the two of you walk toward a tree. You smile at her politely, and she averts her scowl to the ground.

“I was wondering if Juri-sama wanted to go on a picnic? It’s such a nice day out.” You hold out your basket, eyes wide. You even smile for good measure.

“Why not,” she scoffs, grabbing your arm and walking towards the hillside. She spreads out her jacket for you to sit one once it becomes apparent that you've brought no blanket, and parks herself across from you.

When you open up the basket to reveal three different flavors of shaved ice, she stares at you incredulously. “Since when is this a meal?” When she flicks her eyes over it again, she adds, “How did the ice not melt?”

“I think it was a miracle,” you respond earnestly. “Strawberry?” You offer her a spoonful.

She knocks it out of your hand.

  **vii.**

Your weeks have two set routines: Saturdays for your brother, Tuesdays for Juri. Although her roommate left after three days (homesickness exacerbated by a series of kangaroo attacks), there remains a steady stream of girls flowing out of her room. You lean against the wall and watch them: the one with pigtails in your class who stops to hike up her skirt; Touga’s second ex-girlfriend of the semester, weepy-eyed; and a series of nameless girls who both you and Juri will forget as soon as they leave.

None of them stay for very long, and when you enter, Juri is balancing the student council budget, tallying up the expenses for kangaroos, balloons, and film strips (on Saturday, you’ll bring it to the chairman). “Will you go through those?” she asks, pointing to the stack of gifts and letters on the bed. Brushing a box of chocolates onto the floor, you sit down to sort through scented love notes, bunches of flowers, and lockets.

“This one suits you, Juri-sama,” you say, holding up a gold rose on a chain. When you walk over to clasp it, she grabs your wrist.

“What are you doing?” she asks, yanking your hand away. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Strands of her hair rip through your fingers as you pull your hand back, but she follows, standing up so that your chests are pressed together. She pulls the locket out of your hands and throws it onto the ground.

You bend down to scoop it up. “I wonder what picture Juri-sama’s admirer put in here?” you ask, snapping it open. Inside is a cracked portrait of Juri, and inscription on the other side which reads “My Prince.”

That night, you drape it over her neck while she’s sleeping, and watch it rise and fall. Even though she’s thrown it on the ground by the time you head for Math class (late), you place it on the pillow, with a note proclaiming that the two of them look very beautiful together.

**viii.**

Whenever the time comes for the duel to begin, Juri focuses, but not on you. She keeps one hand brushing against her locket: the other dangles by her side. She doesn't move an inch when you tuck her rose in. Usually, you see her smirking at her opponent, but her mouth is set in a line today.

When you go over to Saionji, he grabs your wrist and yanks you close, lips brushing against your ear.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, curling one hand over your hips. “I’ll get you this time.” He smirks and pushes you back: you stumble and fall out of the way as the duel begins.  
He charges at Juri with a roar. She stands still as his sword shears through the petals of her rose. From where you’re standing, it looks as if she’s been impaled through the heart.

  **ix.**

“May I have this dance, Arisugawa-senpai?” you ask. You’ve ambushed her as she exits the student council’s party conference room, prepared to mingle with the rest of the students. She starts in the fading light before rolling her eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be dancing with your betrothed?” she asks, pointing her finger toward Saionji, whose unsteady exit from the conference room clearly would not have been possible without Miki’s steadying hand on his arm. Next to them, Touga is smirking and fielding all questions as to how the kendo club captain ended up in such a state.

“I tried, but it seemed as if Saionji-sama accidentally had some very strong wine.” You hold out your hand.

She looks out into the hillside, which is decorated with candles and tipsy teenagers in the midst of celebrating the founder’s birthday (alcohol and food generously supplied by the Chairman and his family). “Fine, I’ll dance with you. But I’m not going any farther in.”

“Of course, Arisugawa-senpai.” You place your left hand on her shoulder blade, and curl your fingers together. As the first stirrings of the live music’s waltz begin, you try to twirl her.

“Why are you leading?” she asks, stopping stone-still in the middle.

“I asked Arisugawa-senpai to dance. This is how it works, right?”

“I think that only applies if a boy and girl are dancing,” she says drily, yanking your outstretched arm to pull the two of you out of the way of a blue-haired girl. The girl yanks her boyfriend into the conference room, and a few seconds later you hear the whisper of a party dress hitting the floor.

A few minutes later, Miki runs up to the two of you, pink-faced and panting. “Have you seen Kozue?” he gasps, bending over at the waist.

“I believe she went-,” you begin, but Juri cuts you off.

“A couple of minutes ago,” she says. “Would you like me to help you look for her?”

You wrap your arms around Juri’s waist, and lean over to whisper “Is Arisugawa-senpai so eager to get rid of me?”

Miki flushes. “T-that’s fine,” he stammers, trying to avoid both of your eyes when you turn toward him. “I’m sorry for interrupting. Good night.” He runs off into the night.

“We should have helped him,” Juri says drily. She makes no protest when your hand returns to her shoulder, however.

“It’s such a romantic night, don’t you think?” you say, spinning the two of you in a circle. Moans are emitting from the open window of the conference room. “Miki-kun will find her, I’m sure.”

She scoffs and pushes you away as soon as the song ends. “Go find your betrothed,” she calls, walking into the crowd.

  **x.**

 

“Some transfer papers,” your brother says over breakfast, handing you a slim file. “Finish them and give them to the counselor to process.”

“Yes, big brother,” you murmur, opening up the file.

The incoming student went to Ohtori for elementary and middle school, and wants to return. Her transcript is not remarkable. Her name, as printed on top of her transfer form, is Shiori Takatsuki.

Juri is in the counselor’s office when you enter. He nods politely, and you hand the file over, murmuring a polite excuse.

On your way out, you offer Juri a rose. She tucks it into the front of her shirt.


End file.
